Wonderful Christmastime
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: I know it's not Christmastime yet, but hey, so what? Anyway, it's a HouseChase slash fic. Chase has a gift for House but he isnt sure if he should give it to him or not. Rated for language and possible other stuff in later chapters
1. Chapter 1

The thing about House is that whenever there's actual work to be done, anytime we're overloaded with patents, when people really need him, he's nowhere to be found, out someplace playing game boy or watching his soap, or annoying me, or Wilson, or Foreman, or Cameron, or all of us if possible. But when we don't have any patients, when the hospital is totally dead, he goes out of his way to look for cases. It's almost like the only time he wants to do any work is when somebody tells him he cant.

Today's one of the in-between days. There's stuff that needs to be done but he can push it off on the rest of us and pretend that he's working by spending the day avoiding clinic duty. There's nothing big going on right now, though, no mysteries. So, naturally he's bored. Plus it's getting close to the holidays and mostly we see; kids eating mistletoe, people falling from ladders, minor electrocutions, people going overboard with holiday food, holiday related depression, all that stuff.

Okay, so I got this ting for House for Christmas, but I'm still not sure if I want to give it to him. House always acts like he hates the holidays, and you cant really blame him, what with the massive increase in stupid patients with boring problems, but I think he'd want a gift. Then again, I don't know what he'd think of me if I just walked into his office carrying a big box wrapped up with red and green paper, and a bow, grinning like an idiot.

Would he tell everyone?

Does he care if people found out about us?

I mean it's not like we're doing anything wrong, but you know, people would talk, not that he cares about that. Knowing House he'd love it if people knew about us because then he'd be able to tell everyone when he thinks I've done something stupid. I don't know how long I was standing there, trying to make up my mind. I wasn't sure what to do, whether or not to go in, or stay out. I stood there too long. Way too long.

Suddenly Cameron was standing next to me, and she was smiling, a huge smile. She always smiles, except when she's bawling her eyes out. Chicks are way too much trouble, I suppose that part of me has always known that, but chicks like Cameron are the worst. Anyway, there I was standing in front of House's office with a big gift-wrapped present in my hands looking like a complete fool, and it wasn't even like I could just pretend it was for someone else.

I sure as Hell couldn't give it to her. This is for House. It's really fucking personal, and you know what—if anyone else saw it . . .man . . .it'd be all over the hospital. Even if she didn't mean to Cameron would tell someone, or someone would figure it out by talking to her. It didn't mater anyway. She's smart, really smart, and she knew what the fit was for House.

"So, are you going to go in there, or just stand in the hallway all afternoon?" She gave me that silly little smile of hers. I hate that smile.

"He won't like it," I told her. It is the truth, but it's also a copout, and she knows it.

"House doesn't like anything. But if you like him enough to get him a gift, then you should give it to him. He'd appreciate that."

"He'll use it against me forever. I mean knowing house, he'd probably plaster a picture of it all over the hospital."

"Well," she sighed, thinking it over for a minute. "Foreman and I could put our names on the card," she offered. The funny part is that she probably meant it. And if what's in the box wasn't—well I cant tell you that right now but anyway—the point is there's no way she or anyone else for that matter could put their name on the card.

It's not that kind of present. I guess I was blushing. I felt my cheeks, flush a little, but I get warm sometimes and I don't blush. Okay, I do blush, but not much. "Alright, I wasn't gonna ask, but now I gotta know."

"No, way!" I think I actually chocked on the words. I mean Hell, you would have. Anyone would have. She gave me a little 'come on,' shove but then realized I wasn't going to tell her, no mater what.

"You could always hide the box, and give him a big ol' bottle of Vicodin," she said jokingly.

"That was his birthday present," I explained rolling my eyes. She gave me this look and I realized she couldn't tell if I was joking or not. I smiled.

"Or not . . ." I guess I cant really blame House for messing with people the way he does. It was fun watching her try and not freak out like that.

"Anyway, I think he might actually like this. It's just that," I couldn't finish. It's stupid but she knew what I was going to say and she knows House. She nodded.

"Look, you can't go around spending all your time trying to make things perfect. It's House. And he's not going to change. Whatever happens it's going to happen even if you fight it. The best you can do is try and be happy with whatever life throws at you."

"That's bull and you know it. That's the kind of crap they say on after school specials and besides, I don't want things to be perfect," she cut me off.

"You just want him to love you," she said knowingly. Cameron thinks that people might actually forget the fact that she's in love with him. I remember when she managed to talk him into going out with her. It was before House and I were . . .together, but I liked him even then. I remember being jealous even though I felt stupid about it.

"If he's capable." As soon I said it I wanted to take it back. It's not fair to say something like that. House's pretty damaged, and he would never admit it but he's scared to open himself up to anyone. I see the way he looks at Stacy when they pass in the hall. It's probably the way I look whenever I see him.

"Go in there. Give him the fit. What's the worst that could happen?" She's so fucking optimistic. Sometimes, it drives me crazy.

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say. You don't know what's in the box." The truth is, I could have gotten him a fucking teddy bear but just the thought of giving him a gift scares me to death. I wasn't sure how seriously House takes our—relationship—but I want things to be serious. I know that giving him this means telling him so. I took a step forward and put my hand on the door. Cameron patted me on the back as she walked off. Then she turned around. We both stood there for a while. Neither of us was quiet ready to move on yet. I knew she was waiting to see if I went in.

"So, are you gonna stand there all day, or what" Finally I work up the nerve and turn the knob. Up until now I could still turn around and House would never know, but as soon I stepped into his office, now I know. There's no turning back.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Gregory House . . .it's easy to see why people wouldn't like him. He's rude, he's dismissive, and frankly, he doesn't want to be liked. At least, that is the front he puts up. That plus the drug thing is enough to make almost anyone turn away. But there's a lot more to him though. There's this whole other side, well maybe not a while side, but a good part of one. Nobody sees that though.

Most people who spend any time with him don't take the time of the effort to get to know House. Plus he doesn't exactly want people to. You could blame it on Stacy if you want, but I have feeling that it started a long time before that. Best I can figure something happened when he was a kid. Of course he won't talk about any of that stuff so it's impossible to know for sure. Childhood trauma is pretty much the number one cause of mental illness. That's one of the reason that there are so many insane people running around all over the world, but we're not talking about those people, we're talking about House.

I don't know what happened to House to make him the way he is, probably his whole life built up to it. Anyway, what I do know, is that under all the insanity and the snappy, cruel, comebacks, and the bitterness, and the anger—and everything else that people pretend is all there is to him—there is something else. Cameron sees it too, but her mistake was she wanted to try and bring it out, to make him all that. She wanted o fix him. She doesn't understand. He's not broken. He's not perfect, but who the Hell is? I'm not saying that I don't want him to be happy, I do, but at the same time I know I can't force happiness on him.

The door squeaks open and he doesn't even look up. He's sitting there, just sitting there playing game boy, perfectly contended to be at work and not doing any work what so ever. He looked up just long enough to see who it was, and the goes back to his game. I turn and lock the door. Privacy is important, esp. right now.

"Give me a minute," he says. Clearly he didn't see the huge package in my hands. Either that or he assumed someone gave it to me.

"I um—." Suddenly I can't talk. Not at all. I feel like a complete idiot. _Come on!_ I tell myself, _just tell him already!_ "I just thought that—"

"Seriously, I've got one life left. If I die because of you, I'm going to be very grumpy." I couldn't help but laugh. God, what would a complete stranger think if they heard that? I wanted to say something like '_but you're always grump,'_ only my tongue wouldn't let me. "Damnit," he curses the game system and probably me, since I interrupted him from getting the high score. He shuts it off and tosses it aside. Then he loops up at me and clasps his hands in a totally fake but eerily serine gesture.

"Here," is about all I can manage to say, putting the brightly wrapped box on the desk in front of him. House looks at the fit, at me, at the fit, again, and me once more. I try to smile try to be coy or something; only I know I just look stupid.

"What the hell is this," he asks, pushing his chair away slowly, as if the present might reach up and bite him. I put my hand on the bow that's on top, trying to prove that it's safe.

"What do you think," I smirk. I finally get back to my normal self, whatever that is. He moves tentatively towards the box. It's almost funny. He's suspicious of a fucking Christmas present. Although I doubt if anyone's give him one in a long time. Certainly nobody in this hospital. Wilson maybe—no—that would be too weird. Certainly he's not gotten anything since she left him.

"Well ordinarily I'd say that it looks like a Christmas present, but my name is on the card. A bomb maybe? Or what if I open it and a giant pie comes out and hits me in the face. Funny. I like it, now leave." When he puts his hand on mine, by the bow I can see that he really wants to open it. It's hard to believe that nobody else sees this in him.

"If it was a bomb, I'd get as many people to sign the card as possible, that way there's no suspect. Then I'd have someone deliver it, so I wouldn't get blown up too."

"At least, I'm teaching you how to be a good criminal. Seems like all of those cop shows we've been watching are paying off.' I put my hand over his soft. I brush my thumb over his knuckles, hand, and wrist. He takes my hand in both of his. Then he kisses it. "I'm not going to explode?"

"Would I be in the room with you when you opened the thing?"

"Well, you are a bit of a sadist, but I don't think you'd risk getting blown up, just to see it happen to me." He pulls the bow open, tares the paper off, opens the box, looks inside, and laughs.


	3. Chapter 3

It only takes a minute but I realize he doesn't get it. It's not unusual. Sometimes House can be a little myopic, especially when he thinks he's got something pegged. He touches the frame.

"It's nice,' he says quietly not sure what to think or say. "You got a picture to put in here or something?" First I try drawing his attention to what I had put inside the frame. Now I'm feeling really stupid. When he does figure this out I'll never hear the end of it.

"It's not the frame. I uh—it's." Jesus! How come this happens to me? I've never been like this, not around anyone. I've never been like this period. "It's a poem." I know I know, corny, and probably—make that definitely—stupid.

I mean, Hell how many adults actually exchange poetry. I can't believe I wrote one for House. Okay I can believe that, I can't believe I gave it to him. House is going to use it to wallpaper the clinic, make a billion copies of the damn thing.

"What, are we in the sixth grade," he chuckles. He's not even looking at the thing. I wonder if he'll ever read it. He doesn't care what it says. In his mind it's just stupid.

"Forget it." I try to take the poem but he pulls it away. God, this is embarrassing. Please, someone kill me. Save me from this.

"Mine," he barks at me like a greedy little toddler. He holds it away from me. So much for stupid adolescent romantic fantasies. It was stupid of me to think he would even like it. It was more than stupid; it was one step above insanity. I turn around. It's a bad idea to do anything nice for him. I just want to leave, for now, everything is, especially the mood, is ruined.

"I should just leave," I explain. House puts his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. It was a bad idea. Just don't tell anyone okay?" He's standing so close that I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. _Don't turn around, _I order my body, but it doesn't listen. I turn. We stand facing each other and then he kisses me. He presses his body up against min, and runs his fingers through my hair. More could happen, easily, quickly, but I step back before anything does.

"Read it to me," he orders rocking back a little, moving towards a chair. "If it's really bad I'll stop you."

"Do you think it's going to be bad?" I can't believe he's even interested. This is just too weird. House is always coming up with more ways to humiliate me.

"I don't think you would just hand it over to me if you thought it was bad. You're smart, and I trust your opinion . . .sometimes." House sits down behind the desk. He reaches his hand into his pocket. At least he's not going for the Gameboy.

"If I have to read this thing, I want you to really listen to me," I say, but there's no strength behind my words. There's no power here. Whenever House makes an order people listen. I know he doesn't usually listen to anyone, but I dunno, I thought maybe he'd listen to me on this one.

"I am listening. And I'll listen better if I'm not in pain," House looks at the frame and gulps down the pills. I don't need to pick it up. I worked on tit so long, put so much effort into it, I have the whole thing memorized. I close my eyes and wipe the sweat from my forehead. I open my eyes, take a deep breath and recite it to him. I cant make eye contact, not right now . . . When I finish I finally manage to look back at him. House is smiling. I don't know if he liked it or not. I can't tell. I turn heading for the door.

"I guess I'll see you latter," I sigh as I reach out to unlock the door.

"Wait, don't go." I can't look, but I can hear as he gets up to come over to where I'm standing. It takes me a minute but then he's right behind me. "It's nice," he says kissing my neck. His hand reaches around to touch my face, turning it so that I can look into his eye. Lips brush against lips. Clothes fall to the floor, skin against skin. Pretty soon he's got me bent over the desk and he's leaning almost all of his weight against me as he thrust in and out, sweat running down my back.

His smooth hand reaches around grasping my cock and tugging. He's rocking against me. I feel myself getting close and House's labored breathing tells me we're both at the same point. After we finish he moves back, no longer able to support all that weight on his leg without collapsing. I give myself a minute to catch my breath and then I turn to face him. House has the framed poem in his hands staring at it.

"It's really bad, isn't it," I ask trying to find my belt. I see it on the floor under the desk. I bend down, pick it up, and then turn around. He hasn't said anything.

"I told you it was nice, what else do you want me to say?" He's not angry, just—he's just being House.

"I'm not sure." Then after a long science, I add, "it's just that I spent so much time on it. I dunno, I just thought you'd. . ." I'm stuttering again. _Damnit!_ This fucking sucks.

"It's good," he says honestly. He stands up, walks over and touches my face. "Thank you." All I can do is nod, and he's moving to the desk before I even realize he's gone.

"What are you doing," I ask as I move up close, standing behind him and looking over his shoulder. House reaches into the top drawer. There's a small gift-wrapped box inside. "Is that—," he cuts me off.

"If you tell anyone about this," he warns me. He doesn't have to finish the threat. He doesn't really care what people think about him, just as long as they don't think he's sentimental or going soft or something. He takes the box out of the drawer and hands it to me.


	4. Chapter 4

"You." I can barely speak. I must be dreaming. He hands me the box and I half expect it disappear and then for me to wake up. Finally I reach out and hold onto it. "You got me a present?" I must have said that too loudly. House clamps a hand over my mouth.

"Would you shut up? Somebody's going to hear you." I nod. He lets go, just leaving me standing there with the small little box in my hand. "I haven't done this in a while, but uh—I," he stammers. It's weird. I've never seen him like this. He's kind of freaking me out. It's the most I've seen him open up to me, to anyone I think. He puts his hand on my face but he won't look me in the eyes. I don't think he can. I take his hand kissing it. Then he tries to pull away.

"Thank you." My hand touches his face turning it so he has to look at me. "It doesn't matter, what's inside the box."

"Yeah, yeah. It's the thought that counts, right?" a roll of the eyes from House and a deep sigh. "That's easy for you to say poetry boy," he says stepping back.

"I should 'ave known you'd use that against me." I knew I had to let him go. He reaches into his pocket again but puts the bottle back when he sees me glaring at him. House looks at me with an evil little grin

"Yes, you should have," he's still smiling. "But that doesn't mater. If I tell anyone about the poem you'll tell them about my gift," he says moping a little. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

"Cameron saw me," I admit and he looks up angrily. This time when he reaches for the prescription bottle no look from me, or anyone else could stop him.

"What did you say to her," he demands swallowing hard and replacing the bottle. Now it's my turn to look away. "Damn it." He pounds his fist against the desk.

"I'm sorry, I don't think she'll say anything and it's not like she knows about this." I shake the little box.

"Yeah, alright," he says rocking slowly. "Did you tell her what you were giving me?" I can only manage to shake my head. "Good, good." A few minutes pass. He sits down. The pills start to take effect and he relaxes a little. I start to peel the wrapping from the box. He looks up. He's trying to see the expression on my face when I open it. I still half expect it to explode or something. My hands are shaking. I have to stop.

"What is it," I ask putting the box down. "I just—did you," my voice trails off. He's laughing. Fucking Hell he planned this! He didn't get me a gift because he likes me or because he cares. He just wanted to watch me squirm.

Sometimes I hate him! I can't believe I wrote a poem for this man! He's a real bastard! He lives just to watch people suffer. He only got close to me so he could torture me. I'm a fool to think he'd ever care about me.

"Just open the box Robert. It's not a trick." I guess I must have rolled my own eyes because he gives me this look. He looks at me and everything else just falls away.

"I—I don't believe you," I admit. He hasn't exactly given me much reason to trust him. House just lets out this exasperated sigh. He doesn't try to defend himself or to anything to convince me that it's safe. He just sits there. And he sits. And he sits.

"Knock it off," he yells at me. "Just open the damn box already. You're completely ruining this." He gets up again, walking over to the desk. At first I'm sure he's going for the Gameboy but he doesn't. He comes right up next to me and puts hand on my shoulder. Then he leans in and kisses my forehead.

It's really weird. He's never treated me like this. He isn't nice. He isn't kind, or sweet, or gentle. He doesn't care about anyone. Even the sex is rough with him. You'd think with the leg and all he wouldn't be able to but he does it every time. _God,_ we've been doing this thing, this dance, for eight months now. Eight fucking months and he's never done one nice or sweet or gentle thing. He's never even told me that he loves me.

"I can't." My voice barely comes out in a whisper. I'm sure I'm crying. God he's never going to let this go. I feel him breathing softly against my face. His hand brushes against my hair.

"Shh," he whispers kindly. I can't help but be scared. There's no way he's trying to comfort me. I just want all of this to stop. He takes the box from my hand. He takes the wrapping off and opens the box. Inside is a small piece of folded paper.

My hands reach down, trembling, and I unfold it. There's a small printed message inside. I feel tears slipping down my face as I read it and I feel like an idiot and a drama queen and he smiles. As I read the words over and over he leans down and whispers into my ear. "I told you," he whispers softly. I nod. He kisses me again. "Merry Christmas."

"Read it to me," I beg, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. House smiles and he takes the slip of paper away from me holding it up so he can se it.

"I love you," he says looking right into my eyes, his lips brushing against my cheek, and then my ear. "I love you," he repeats it again. I open my mouth to speak but my tongue is so dry it sticks to the roof of my mouth. House smiles. "Come on. You can do it. It's an easy one." I feel his hand on the back of my neck as if he's guiding my head into a nod.

"I love you." I've wanted to tell him that for a long time I just never thought he would listen. I figured he'd just laugh and it would be the end of everything. Then my pager goes off. His does too. I guess today is going to be busy after all.


End file.
